


What You Want To Be

by hamiltrashed, Michelle_A_Emerlind, TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Red Riding Hood, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Comfort, Costumes, Crack, Established Relationship, Gratuitous Use of the Word Oui, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, More tags to come as Michelle and S0urW0lf add chapters, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Really mostly just crack, Rickyl, Rickyl Writer's Group, Shane is a gorilla because of course he is, Squirrels like peanuts, total crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed/pseuds/hamiltrashed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Daryl have a full schedule of parties this Halloween and, amidst the creative costumes and over-indulgence of White Russians, something strange is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Some Tail

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge from the Rickyl Writer's Group. TWDObsessive has Chapter One, Michelle_A_Emerlind has Chapter Two, S0urw0lf has Chapter Three and Mermaidsheenaz was our muse and particularly helped me (TWDObsessive) because this is my first crack fic attempt ever! Thanks to Michelle_A_Emerlind for Beta'ing!!

“Stop squirming. You’re fine.” Rick said as he adjusted the hood of Daryl’s squirrel costume again.

"But my tail, is it fluffy enough? I can't believe you left it boxed up all day. You should have taken it right out so it could get fluffy." Daryl turned back and ran fingers through the tail while wiggling his ass, trying to shake it out a bit. Make it a more respectable squirrel tail. "Ain't s'posed ta be road kill. I'm a real live squirrel."

Rick shook his head and adjusted his park ranger hat. "You're a squirrel, alright," Rick muttered affectionately as the door opened. Abraham saluted them, dressed in full army fatigues.

"An army guy? Really? That's so fucking lame, dude," Daryl said. "You’re supposed to be something fun tonight."

"Military is fun. Now get in here and proceed to have a good time. One rule- we didn't get a ton of candy so stay out of it. It's for the trick or treaters tomorrow.”

"This party kinda sucks already," Daryl pouted as Rick took his little squirrel paw and walked him into a fully decorated living room complete with spider webbing, skeletons in the corner, orange candles, a jackolantern and an apparently off-limits bowl of candy sitting on a table by the door. 

“Ooh! Rosita’s making White Russians!” Rick squeaked and ran off to get them each a glass. Daryl hovered by the door, pretty dour that no one was making a bigger deal out of his awesome squirrel outfit. Aaron and Eric were standing nearby with Kahlua drinks already in their hands, Aaron in a full Raven’s football uniform and Eric in a Steelers one, both complete with padding.

“Not very original,” Daryl judged waving a paw at their jerseys. 

“No it is!” Eric insisted. “It’s clever because I’m actually the Raven’s fan and Aaron is actually the Steelers fan so it’s really ironic.”

“Hmm,” Daryl grunted, waiting for their assessment of his full-body squirrel outfit. They would probably say something about it any minute. Unless… Oh god, unless the tail was too flat! 

“Squirrel. Nice.” Aaron said as he sipped his drink. 

 

“You think the tail is fluffy enough?” Daryl fretted, enthusiastically turning around to shake his ass again. “I don’t look like a roadkill squirrel, do I? Cause that ain’t what I was going for.” 

Before Eric and Aaron could console the nervous squirrel, Rick returned with the drinks. “I haven’t had these in years!” he said, tipping his hat in greeting to the football players after he handed one to Daryl.

Eric turned to the bowl of candy that they’d all been eyeing. “You know, I bet a snickers would go really good with this Kahlua,” he whispered to the group.

A whistle blew behind them as Rosita came up in her sexy referee outfit. “You boys aren’t thinking about going in for that candy are you? Didn’t you get the memo that it’s for tomorrow?” She grinned, then slipped a hand subtly in and pulled out a green-wrapped candy in the shape of a peanut and backed away. “As you were,” she nodded. 

As soon as she turned and walked away, all four of them stuck hands in the bowl grabbing for whatever they could get. Daryl, Aaron and Eric all came up with the green wrapped, nut-shaped candies and Rick had a small box of Whoppers. They huddled together to keep the candy out of Abraham’s line of sight. Daryl snuck a peek. He was at the bar with a pink martini talking to Eugene, who was dressed, not surprisingly, like a scientist. Idiots, Daryl thought.

“What’s that green one?” Rick asked, his mouth full of Whoppers.

“‘S got peanuts!” Daryl exclaimed excitedly. “Squirrels like peanuts!” 

“And chocolate and is that caramel too?” Eric questioned. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Daryl asked. “That’s the best candy ever. Squirrel food. I better take some more," he said as he grabbed another fist full. 

“Hate peanuts in chocolate,” Rick groaned and reached back in the bowl for a Charleston Chew. 

Daryl stopped in the middle of unwrapping another peanut candy, his fingers getting caught in the outfit’s oversized paws. “Blaspheme!” Daryl gasped. Then he looked at Rick’s candy selection with disdain. “A Charleston Chew? What is this 1953?”

They were interrupted by what sounded like a battering ram pounding into the front door. Merle let himself in after no one moved fast enough for him. “Heard y’all got some drink… what the fuck, Abe. Is that a goddamn pink martini?” 

Merle was dressed head to toe in hunter’s gear, including face paint, with a nerf crossbow in his hands. 

“Shit! The enemy,” Daryl murmured to Rick. 

“Well, he is an asshole”, Rick agreed, “but enemy is probably a bit of an exaggeration.

“No Rick, Look! He’s got my kin!” 

Rick looked again and Merle’s costume included three stuffed animal squirrels on a string draped over the hunter’s shoulders. Each touched up with red paint.

“I gotta get out of here!” Daryl whispered and he grabbed two hands full of candy and scurried out the back door. 

“What’s twisted his panties?” Merle asked as he reached in for the last of the green nut-shaped candies.

\---------------------------------

When Daryl didn’t return after a good twenty minutes, Rick started to worry. The party was getting a little off anyway, so maybe they should just head home. Aaron and Eric had literally started tackling each other over the coffee table with Rosita chiming in every few minutes with a whistle and a yellow flag. 

Merle had opened the front window and had the nerf crossbow aimed through it, shushing people. 

“You seen Daryl?” Rick asked Eugene as he grabbed one of those pink maritini’s. 

 

“Daryl?” Eugene asked. “According to the holiday that’s afoot and in the name of the spirit of things, there is no Daryl here tonight. But if you are asking if I’ve seen a grown man in a giant squirrel suit with a slightly smushed tail, well, yeah. I think he’s in a tree out back.”

“By a tree?” Rick asked.

“IN a tree. Like for reals.”

Rick put the drink down and marched out back. By the time he reached the kitchen he found the beginning of a trail of candy wrappers. All seemed to be peanut-related. A few more of the green wrappers. Some Snickers wrappers. Peanut M&M’s. Four Almond Joy wrappers. And by the time he was under the tree there were a pile of Mounds. Opened, broken in half and then dropped in the yard uneaten. Made sense, Rick thought. Almond Joy’s got nuts. Mounds don’t. 

As he stood, contemplating eating one of the abandoned Mounds, a Payday bar fell out of the sky and dropped at his feet. Rick looked up into the branches as Daryl climbed down and ran to the dropped Payday, grabbed it and went back for the tree. The Park Ranger yanked at the neck of Daryl’s costume, holding him back. 

"I'm going back to the nature, leave me be!" Daryl said pulling away, holding the Payday tight to his chest.

"Pull it together, squirrel!” Rick shouted. “Don’t want you falling out of that tree cause you’re all hopped up on sugar. 

"I need to stockpile acorns, WINTER IS COMING!"

“Daryl as your personal Park Ranger, I have to protect you. I’m not letting you climb that tree again. If you want more nuts, come in the house. There’s still more candy in the bowl I bet.”

Daryl paused and narrowed his eyes at Rick. “You’ll help me find my nuts?” he asked suspicious.

“Yes, totally.” 

“This ain’t a trap?” Daryl unpeeled the Payday and started nibbling at it, eyes darting in all directions for possible danger. 

Rick raised a suspicious eyebrow. Daryl was taking this squirrel thing further that he'd thought possible. His mannerisms, his drive, he was quickly becoming concerningly more squirrel-like.

“Don’t I always take care of you?” Rick asked wrapping his arms around his little squirrel. Daryl allowed the hug but was unable to hug back because his paws were busy holding the payday to his mouth while he nibbled at it protectively.

"Yeah. You do," Daryl admitted, eyes still shifting. 

They walked back into the house after Daryl’s payday was safely swallowed and Rick went straight for the bowl. He looked in and darted eyes back to Daryl. 

“Sorry, baby. All gone,” he frowned, wishing he’d have gotten a box of those Dots before everything disappeared. 

“ALL GONE?” Abraham’s voice boomed out. He reached for a fake walkie talkie. “The eagle has flown the coop. I repeat. The eagle has flown the coop. We are out of candy. I need to be flanked on both sides as we move in tight to take down the 7-11 across the street.” He waited patiently for a reply but the plastic toy did not respond. “Goddamnit! We’ve been infiltrated! We need HumVees on the move. I need…” 

Rick eyed him suspiciously and slipped past, grabbing Daryl’s hand and pulling him into the kitchen. Daryl’s eyes were huge and watery. “We’re out of nuts, aren’t we? Be straight with me, Rick. The freeze is nearly here. There’s not a nut to be found in all of Alexandria Drive. How will I care for my young, Rick? HOW?”

“You don’t HAVE any young, Daryl. You are pretend squirrel with five cats at home. Your cats do not eat peanuts. Everyone will live.” Rick moved in for a hug, but Daryl darted right. Then left. Then came back and darted right again and then scurried off behind him to the counters and flung open some doors. Dishes, cups, wine glasses. No nuts. 

Daryl flung around to Rick. “I have no kin because they are currently hanging around Merle’s neck. DEAD!!” He exclaimed.

Rick moved quicker this time and got Daryl in a tight hug. “You need to take a breather, Daryl. You may be taking this Halloween thing a bit too far. Now calm down and take it easy. We are nice and safe here. Everything is fine.” 

A whistle blew from the doorway. “Penalty! Holding!” Rosita shouted then her attention was turned to a small kerfuffle in another corner of the living room and she walked away. 

Rick tightened his hug and Daryl relaxed a bit in the comfort of Rick’s arms. The park ranger was tasked with caring for the forest and all it’s creatures big and small, so he trusted Rick. Daryl hugged back gently.

“Thanks, Rick. I do feel a little bit relaxed knowing you’ll look out for me.” Daryl suddenly remembered where he’d squirreled away some additional nuts. Nice ones. His favorite kind of nuts. Better than Snickers. He knew what he had to do. Seduce this park ranger out of his uniform. At least the part of the uniform where Daryl knew nuts were stored for safe-keeping on cold winter nights. He turned to Rick and kissed him gently and the park ranger moaned into Daryl’s soft, warm mouth. Rick tasted nuts and chocolate and a hint of kahlua on Daryl’s tongue. 

Rick shook a bit as a chill of some kind hit against his back. When it happened again, the park ranger realized it wasn’t a breeze or a shiver from want, but something physical swatting up against him. He leaned back away from Daryl and turned around, expecting maybe Rosita there to throw a flag on the play. But instead, Rick was face-to-face with Daryl’s partially smushed squirrel tail… and it was MOVING! Wrapping around Rick like it was petting him. He jumped back.

“What the fuck!? How did you move that tail!?”

“It’s my tail,” Daryl answered flatly. “It moves.” 

Eugene walked in wearing safety goggles with a beaker and a microscope slide. “Gentlemen, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but there may be some magic afoot this evening. There are signs of various micro-organisms about that indicate a shift in the alternate reality spectrum so you may experience some unexpected shit. My professional advice is to roll with it.” He walked back out without batting an eye at Daryl who had been listening intently with his tail swishing back and forth.

“Rick, I need to get to your nuts. I kept them zipped up in there,” he waved towards Rick’s zipper, “for emergencies. And THIS is an emergency. I need those nuts, Rick. Help a squirrel out, will ya?"

“What the fuck is happening tonight?” Rick muttered.

Daryl asked again, but this time with a slow, what he hoped was seductive, swish of his tail and a batting of eyelashes. “Take your pants off, Rick.”

Rick looked back to the living room and heard more voices that must have just arrived. He was actually getting a little hard at the thought of Daryl going after his nuts like he went after that Payday. 

“There’s like a boatload of people in here, Daryl.” Rick said softly, eyes slowly moving to the sliding glass door that went back out into the yard.

“Squirrels don’t do it in houses, silly.” the squirrel said. And he took Rick by the hand and led him outside into the cool, dark October evening. The stars were out and the moon was bright enough to see clearly as Daryl pressed Rick slowly against the tree and stepped back. “That’s perfect. Now pants off, please.”

“You ain’t gonna take ‘em off?” Rick said seductively.

Daryl put his paws on his hips. “Squirrel’s can’t use zippers, Rick,” he said in a completely condescending way.

“Of course.” Rick nodded, as he unzipped and dropped his pants. He stood in the cool fall breeze in just orange boxer briefs that said “Boo!” over the crotch and his button down uniform top.

“Better unbutton too. Shirt’s hanging over my hiding place. Rick unbuttoned and let his shirt flair open. Daryl’s eyes grew huge as he saw the hard form of Rick straining against the boxers. “My nuts!!” he shouted enthusiastically and fell to his knees, tugging awkwardly with his squirrel paws to pull down the underwear. Rick helped him and Daryl smiled wide, looking back up at Rick. 

“These are the nuts I’ve been looking for Rick! They can sustain me all winter! I won’t starve now! You’ve saved me!” 

When Rick was finally fully exposed, Daryl wrapped his mouth around one of Rick’s balls and sucked at it gingerly. He licked and nuzzled and sucked at both, one after the other and back again. The cool breeze on Rick’s damped balls was totally turning him on. His cock was straining, but Daryl continued his focus on his lover’s nuts. Licking a line between them, then taking each in his mouth again. MMmm’ing around them and sending shivers down Rick’s spine. 

“I think these nuts are almost ready!” Daryl whispered, looking back up to the park ranger. The squirrel then moved to Rick’s cock, licking at it with tiny little licks like he was a lollypop. Once he licked his way to the top, he took the hard dick into his mouth, hollowed out his cheeks and sucked like a newborn calf. The suddenness of the intensity made Rick’s head fly back and slam into the tree. He put his hands on either side of the squirrel ears and helped pull Daryl to him again and again. As Daryl sucked and bobbed and moaned, he reached back up to get a firm grip on Rick’s nuts and the leader gasped. 

“Jesus, Daryl. I’m gonna come. My nuts are coming baby. Your nuts. Just for you. To save you. Take it, baby…” and with the last word Rick’s voice shifted into a deep groan as he pulsed out seed down Daryl’s eager throat. 

“Holy fuck,” Rick whispered, still backed against the tree, using it to keep himself from falling over in post-orgasm bliss. Daryl kept licking at the slit in Rick’s cock, coaxing out even more of his much-needed nut juice. Then he licked like a kitten, just the tip of his tongue in quick movements along his entire length and back down to the Park Ranger’s balls cleaning up after himself. 

“Rick!” Daryl said excitedly as he stood. “These are magic nuts. There will always be more. I can even have more later tonight, I bet! I won’t starve. I will live, Rick! I will live through the harsh winter ahead. You’ve saved me!

“I’m here to provide for you, squirrel. Any time you need it,” Rick said with a wicked grin, pulling his pants back up. 

“We can be together now forever! Nothing can stop-” Daryl was interrupted by a sudden plop to his forehead. He crossed his eyes and looked up see a nerf dart suctioned to him slightly above his nose. 

“Say it ain’t so!” Daryl shouted as he dramatically stumbled around, grasping a paw out for Rick. “It’s over. I’ve been caught.” He coughed and put the back of his hand to the side of his forehead.

Rick plucked the rubber and styrofoam dart off of Daryl’s head and held it out to him. “Shake it off, Squirrel. It’s not a through-and-through.” 

Daryl looked at Rick with stars in his eyes. “You’ve saved me twice in one night, Ranger. I owe you my life.”

“Goddamn it, Rick! That was my kill!” Merle growled.

“Sorry Mr. Dixon,” Rick said as he lifted his hat and nodded at the hunter. But it’s not squirrel season. I’m going to have to fine you.”

As Rick pulled out his ticket booklet and a pen from his shirt pocket and started writing a pretend citation, finally getting into the fun of the realism, Daryl turned to Merle, paws still tightly grasped to Rick’s left arm. He was eyeing up the stuffed animal squirrels draped around his brother. Checking out their tails.

“Hey, man. Do you think my tail is fluffy enough?”

Merle looked around behind him as Daryl wiggled it. “Looks like half ‘a it got run over by a HumVee,” he grunted.

“Goddamnit, Rick!” Daryl shouted, but Rick raised a brow at him, still in the middle of writing. “I’m the keeper of your magic nuts, Squirrel. Don’t blame me for your tail envy.” He ripped off the ticket and handed it to Merle who took it with an aggravated grunt and stomped off.

“Since I’m in your debt, Ranger, you can have a piece of tail anytime you want it. Even though it’s not as fluffy as it should be. I’m yours.” Daryl said completely straight-faced.

Rick grinned. Perhaps these Halloween parties won’t be so bad after all!


	2. So Dirty!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to give a big shout-out to my Halloween group, TWDObsessive and s0urw0lf, as well as to Sheenaz, our muse! Thanks guys for helping to bring this chapter together! If you’re interested in the costumes the boys are wearing, here was my inspiration: 
> 
> [Daryl](http://halloweencostumesmax.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/halloween_costumes__womens-head-nurse-costume.jpg%20) and [Rick](http://c15131978.r78.cf2.rackcdn.com/ProdImages/Large/2/LargeB4026.jpg)

“Fine, _fine,_ here you go,” Rick snapped and laid the outfit on the bed, careful of the corners. “There’s nothing fluffy in it, so nothing has been _ruined_ like a certain squirrel tail and I even _ironed_ the damn ass thing.”

Daryl glared, but picked up the corner of the white fabric gently and examined it. “Good,” he said with his nose in the air, “because if I have to be a damn ass _nurse_ for Gleggie’s damn _gender swap_ party, then I’m damn well gonna be _sexy_.”

Rick grinned, all malicious and flirty, before grabbing his own costume thrown over the chair. “Not as sexy as a,” he dropped into his worst French impression, “little French maid, oui oui!”

Daryl rolled his eyes, but stood from the bed and started stripping. “Well, Ms. Feather-Fluffer, we’re going to be late to the party if we don’t start changin’.”

Rick laughed and shrugged, nonchalantly. “It’s the second party of the weekend. They’ll get over it.” He turned around and bent slightly over the chair before dropping his drawers and letting his voice go deep and rough. “Sure you don’t want to be late?”

And oh, _oh_ , Daryl did.

***

Maggie threw the door open with a flourish, shining in her bright white armor with the visor of her helmet up. “GOOD EVENING, GALS,” she bellowed, “and welcome to the party of the _century_.”

Rick rolled his eyes and flipped his curly brunette wig. “ _Uh_ ,” he said with a very successful bubble gum pop, “let us in, Maggie. I hear you have White Russians.” He pushed through the door, ignoring her and her newly-wed husband sporting a pink princess dress with one of those cone hats with the veil-like fabric.

Rick made his way straight to the open bar in the back, making it three clicks of his cute little black stocking-clad heels before Daryl pulled him to a stop, simultaneously tugging his way too short, way too white nurse's skirt down. “Oh, no, no, no. You know what we said, Rick. We are ingesting _nothing_ of what we did last night. I don’t know what caused that damn squirrel thing, but we are _not_ repeating that episode, okay? So no White Russians, no Kahluas, none of that green wrapped candy, no Paydays, no Almond Joys, and absolutely _no_ walking around Stookey, because I think he was smoking shit. Just to be on the same side. Even though I really think that squirrel crap felt more like shrooms than smoke, but whatever. We are staying safe. Right?”

“Right,” Rick said with a nod of his curls, his chin strong and defiant. But as Abraham walked past in a blindingly pink and really unflattering tutu, Rick grabbed his drink straight out of his hand and downed it.

“RICK!” Daryl chastised, but Rick giggled and disappeared into the crowd.

“Sorry, babe!” he called back. “It’s a party!”

***

After Rick disappeared into the crowd, Daryl leaned back in the corner against the wall, a simple Sprite in his hand and his people watching skills on. Michonne looked extra badass in her firefighter costume and Daryl would give it to Tyreese--he made a surprisingly decent Leia. All in all, he _guessed_ he would call the party a success.

That is until his little French maid clicked up to him, Rick’s curls boinging and his hand fanning his face like he was about to burst into tears. “I...I cannot...I cannot _take it_ , Monsieur. Non! No, no! This place..oh!”

“What is it?” Daryl asked, leaning forward off the wall quickly and sitting his Sprite down on a table beside him. He walked forward to take Rick into his arms, but Rick’s eyes were glued to the table and welling up.

“Oh, oh, _Monsieur_ ,” he said with crazed passion, “you did not...you did not use a _coaster_. OH!”

“...coaster.”

“Oh, yes!” Rick said and looked around the room. “Oui, oui! This place! Oh, oh! So...so…”

“Yes?” Daryl asked and put his hands on Rick’s shoulders, running his thumb over the frilly black-and-white fabric.

“So…”

“Yes, Rick?”

“So…”

“What?”

“ _Dusty!_ ”

Daryl blinked. “Dusty.”

“YES!” Rick cried and looked around him in horror. “So much to clean. My poor little duster…Oh! My duster!” Rick pulled away from Daryl’s arms quickly and reached down under his skirt and Daryl was about to whisk him away for public indecency when he pulled a feather duster out of his damn breeches and held it up to Daryl.

“I,” Rick said with full sincerity, “will dust.”

“Rick, I don’t think, OH HOLY SHIT!” Daryl cried as Rick started to dust _him_. And certain damn _parts_ of him that should not be _dusted_ in the public of a Halloween party.

“RICK,” Daryl growled. “Stop it. It’s not funny anymore.”

Rick blinked up at him and then moved his feather-duster straight up to Daryl’s nose and started to brush it. “Non,” he said. “Dust is never funny.”

And that’s when it hit Daryl like a ton of bricks. Rick wasn’t just playing a maid, he damn well _thought_ he was the maid like Daryl last night had got it into his head he was squirrel and _shit_ , things just got more complicated. Daryl grabbed Rick’s shoulders to hold him still and tilted him here and there, but there were no further clues as to the offending source. Rick vaguely smelled like smoke and in his pocket were green candy wrappers along with Mounds and Snickers and a little ticket from the bar for a White Russian. _Fuck_.

But Daryl suddenly had more important things to worry about because Rick was whining and twirling and dusting everything from Daryl’s hairline to his nipples.

“STOP THAT,” he yelled and twisted away, slapping his hands over his nipples so Rick couldn’t get to them, but _that_ didn’t help at all because all of the sudden the feather duster was _under_ Daryl’s short-as-shit nurse’s skirt, flitting across his ass and Rick was muttering to himself, “So dirty, Monsieur! Oui, oui!”

Daryl did the only sensible thing he could do. He ran. Straight off into the kitchen, but Rick, ever persistent with his determined clacking of heels, followed, pushing through Rosita as a ninja, throwing plastic stars at people’s faces, and Dale as the sexy female devil in red leather and latex, promising people their wishes to come true. _Fuck_ , Daryl was about to swear off of Halloween.

He skirted into the kitchen and halted at the far end and Rick clacked to a stop and hit the counter on the opposite side, glaring at him. “I _will_ clean you, Monsieur.”

“Over my _dead blond-wigged body_ ,” Daryl said and took off at a run through the stairs to the right and up to the study on the main floor. Rick shrieked behind him and started to follow before stumbling to a stop at the dusty staircase and going at it like a madman.

Daryl slithered into the dark study and tip-toed into the abandoned room, holding onto his hat and stethoscope as he went. He flopped down quietly into a comfy recliner, sighing in relief. Rick wasn’t following him, so maybe he had actually gotten away. And besides, his feet were already hurting from staying on the leather knee-high boots all night and he could damn well use a moment of sanity.

But his moment of sanity was short-lived because just as Daryl was finally starting to relax he heard the horrific click of heels. He swung his head around in fear, but, with a slam of the door and a twist of the knock, Daryl was in for it. Rick stood at the door, smiling in the moonlight coming through the windows. “You,” Rick said and moved forward with a sway of his hips, “are such a dirty, dirty man. Oui, oui. And the French,” he took a lock of his hair and cast it over his shoulder, “do love _passion_. Even though you are, hmm,” Rick brought a finger to his lips and giggled, “ _dusty_.”

“Rick--” Daryl started, but he didn’t get very far because Rick pounced like a damn French tiger and threw himself into Daryl’s lap before he could react. Rick put the feather duster handle into his mouth and barked around it, ending it with a growl and did a very complicated hip maneuver down onto Daryl’s crotch.

“Oh god,” Daryl whispered in horror, but Rick was looking down at him with glittery, focused eyes. He reached up to his outfit and fingered the frilly sleeves on his shoulders. With a wink and a little growl around the feather duster again, he slowly pulled the sleeves down, slipping them across his arms so that his neck and collarbone truly came free. Daryl groaned, caught like a fly in a flytrap and Rick, seeing his chance, took the feather duster out of his mouth and started brushing across Daryl’s chest again.

“I do love,” Rick said with a wiggle and a twist of the duster, “nurses. Oh, you are so clean!” He grinned and tossed the feather-duster aside, doing another little roll on Daryl’s lap and guiding Daryl’s hands to his hips. “And the French, you know,” he continued, his hands grabbing Daryl’s little flimsy red-cross hat and tossing it behind him with abandon, “are so _passionate_. I can love you like _no one can love you_. Oh, Monsieur!” Rick cried, grabbing ahold of Daryl’s stethoscope around his neck and throwing his own head back in zeal. “Make me a _dirty, dirty boy!_ ”

And Daryl, even without the alcohol or the smoke or the candy, couldn’t say no to _that_. He grabbed the bottom of his little white skirt and hiked the thing up so he could dig into his lacy lingerie that Rick had insisted made the outfit and pull himself out. Rick was gasping and moaning on top of him and they hadn’t even _done_ anything yet and Daryl watched through the darkness cut only by the moonlight as Rick moaned and ran a hand down the front of his dress, slipping his hand underneath the skirt to take hold of himself. “Fuck me in my _ass_ ,” Daryl breathed, but Rick laughed and pressed the finger not stroking himself to full-on hardness to Daryl’s lips.

“No, no, no, Monsieur. You will fuck _me_. Yes?”

“Oh, fuck, _yes_ ,” Daryl moaned, “ _Oui!_ ” He grabbed Rick around his waist and Rick giggled and held onto Daryl by the plastic stethoscope buried around his neck. “Do you have...shit, do you have something to get yourself ready?”

Rick batted his fake eyelashes and shook his head, but leaned forward to put his lips right next to Daryl’s ear, the stubble cutting against Daryl’s cheek. “I prepared myself after dusting. Monsieur. It gets me so _hot_ to think of things so _clean_. And us French...we always come ready.”

Daryl blinked and then blinked again and looked down at Rick’s fluffy skirt and his stockings wrapped around Daryl’s hips. “ _Oh, fucking shit…”_ he breathed, but he didn’t have long to admire as Rick settled himself on Daryl’s lap, throwing the skirt around him and Daryl’s length and slowly and surely slipped down over Daryl.

“Oh!” Rick cried as his ass took Daryl in, “Oh, _Monsieur!_ ” And then Rick was _all_ sounds because apparently in addition to being passionate and clean, the French were also loud. Rick moved himself on Daryl’s body, slamming up and down and fuck was Daryl’s white costume going to get so dirty with the sweat and the heat of Rick’s body, but Daryl didn’t give a shit, because it felt so good, so tight and so damn perfect because it was Rick. It was always Rick, crazy maid mind or not and Daryl groaned along with his phrases, listening as Rick’s voice got higher and higher and higher…“Oui! Oui! OUI! OUI!”

“Oh, goddammit,” Daryl groaned, slamming up hard into him, “ _Oui, oui, oui!_ ”

Daryl held onto Rick’s hip with one hand, helping to guide him and with the other he fished under the skirt until he found what he was looking for, taking hold of Rick and stroking him while Rick’s nails dug into Daryl’s shoulders for purchase as he bounced up and down on Daryl’s cock. And then, holy fuck it didn’t last long, Rick hot around him and that damn cute little French accent calling out, “Oui, Monsieur! Oh, Monsieur!” and soon, yes, yes, _oui oui_ , they were both coming, Rick spurting out between them and Daryl finishing deep inside the pretty little maid on top of him.

Daryl groaned in pure damn joy as he completed himself, pulling Rick to him, frills and all and gasping out his speechless elation. Rick grinned down at him and leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his mouth in a hot and passionate tryst of tongues and teeth. Daryl moaned up into Rick’s mouth and Rick let him kiss with abandon for another minute, before snapping back and grinning like the devil. “Oh,” he breathed, his voice erotic and his pupils dilated, “what a mess we have made. _And I get to clean it_.”

He pushed back in for another kiss and they were just about lost in one another again when the door banged open and Daryl swung his head around to stare in horror at the heads poking it at them, surely responding to all the little high pitched sounds Rick had been making.

“Hmm,” Michonne said, her voice gravel and deep, the firefighter’s helmet large on her head. “Got about five fire code violations for that hose of yours.” She looked pointed down at Daryl’s lap and raised her eyebrow judgmentally, reaching for a plastic fire-extinguisher strapped to her back.

She didn’t get very far, though, before another body was shoving her aside and looking into the room, crying in horror. “This is unacceptable,” Glenn’s squeaky little voice carried, his hat knocking against the top of the door, too tall to go through, “no one screams like that but _me!_ ” He stomped his princess foot unhappily.

“HEY!” a third voice called from further out into the party, a voice unmistakably Abraham’s, “why isn’t anyone watching me GODDAMN DANCE?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Daryl said, dipping his head in embarrassment and attempting to hide behind the frills of Rick’s dress, “we have _got_ to stop coming to these parties.”

 


	3. you're everything a big bad wolf could want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Rick and Daryl's turn to host a third and final Halloween party for the year, and this time, nobody escapes the crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter of the fic only exists by the grace of my teammates, twdobsessive and Michelle_A_Emerlind (who is also my beta) and our muse MermaidSheenaz. Also, I considered a deal with the devil. Put it this way, through much strife, this chapter finally came into being and I hope it was worth my mental agony! :P Crack is _really_ not my strong suit, so I hope that it went at least somewhat okay.
> 
> If you're interested in Daryl's costume, I imagined it something (but not quite) like [this](http://www.spookershalloween.com/products/large/Big-Bad-Wolf-Men-635458169357691097.jpg), and if you're interested in Rick's, I went with [this](http://img.costumecraze.com/images/vendors/dreamgirl/9477-Little-Red-Riding-Hood-Sexy-Costume-large.jpg) but with fishnets instead. ;)

“So, you know the rules -”

Daryl cuts Rick off with a growl, made all the better by the faux fur wolf hood and tunic that have turned him into the fabled Big Bad Wolf for the evening. “I know the damn rules.” Rick thinks that maybe Daryl’s reached the point of annoyance with the seemingly endless parties (and the strange goings-on at them), but he doesn’t let up.

He steps forward, brushes a few stray locks of Daryl’s hair out of his eyes and pushes them under the hood. “Then repeat them back to me.”

Daryl blinks and completely deadpan, says “Don’t make me kill you. Ain’t got time to clean blood out of the carpets before everyone gets here.”

Rick huffs, lets out a long-suffering sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, stepping back in front of the mirror and smoothing down the skirt that he frankly looks damn amazing in. “ _I’ll_ just go over them again so I know we’re clear -”

“I will come over there and yank those fishnets so far up that cute ass of yours that you’ll be pulling ‘em out for a week. Don’t even gimme your shit, _Monsieur_ , after last night.”

Rick grins at Daryl in the mirror. “C’mon, you know that was hot as hell.” He hikes up one side of the skirt, flashing a bit of bare ass cheek at his lover. “Know you can’t resist it.”

“I don’t deny it,” Daryl says, taking a long, appreciative look. “It’s just not going to happen again. I know the rules. No drinking, no eating. No fun, while we’re at it.”

Rick gives himself one last smile in the mirror and flips up the red hood of the cape, curls peeking out from underneath it just a little. He moves back over to Daryl and runs a hand down the inside of one of his biceps. He’s glad now he hadn’t convinced Daryl to go with the full on wolf costume, because this vaguely werewolf-looking creature before him is all muscle, all _flawless_. He pecks Daryl on the cheek. “Oh, baby, we’re gonna have _plenty_ of fun.” He takes Daryl by the hand and pulls him out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

At the bottom of them, just coming in the front door is a gorilla. More accurately, it’s someone in a gorilla costume, and just from the stance, Rick can tell who it is.

“Shane!” Rick launches himself at his best friend and greets him with a hug, then pulls away and watches as Daryl eyes him up and down. Rick sighs and waits for it, counts down in his head. _Three… two… one..._

“It’s a costume party, Shane,” Daryl says on cue, far too snarky in Rick’s opinion for this early in the evening. “You were supposed to dress up.”

Shane pulls off the head of the suit. “Oh, _ha ha_ ,” he replies, and grabs at the crotch of the ape suit. "C'mere, I got a bone for you, puppy." Daryl gives him a dirty look and twists the nipple of the gorilla costume as he walks by, Rick in tow, rolling his eyes at the two of them. If they haven't stopped bickering five years in, Rick's pretty sure it's never gonna happen.

Aside from Shane, the only other person who’s already arrived is Merle, who is lounging on their couch, wearing ordinary clothes. His dirty-booted feet are on the coffee table and he’s flicking through the TV stations with a bored look on his face.

“Get your damn feet off the table, Merle,” Rick says. Merle doesn’t. “It’s a party, you’re not supposed to be watching TV. And where’s your costume?”

Merle looks over at the two of them, the wolf and his Red Riding Hood. “I ain’t dealin’ with no more weirdness like the other night.” He pauses, then smirks. “I’d tell you to eat him for me so he’ll stop bein’ a whiny bitch, baby brother, but you just might, and I don’t needta know about that kinda shit.” 

Rick rolls his eyes again (he has a feeling he’ll be doing a lot of that tonight) and moves to the coffee table, knocking Merle’s feet off and snatching the remote. “Make yourself useful and mix some drinks or something. People’ll be here soon.” 

“Don’t slip nothin’ in ‘em either,” Daryl calls after him as Merle gets up, grumbling, and makes a dramatic show of going to the kitchen.

“You think that’s what’s causing the, uh… weirdness of the last couple days?” Rick asks in a low voice when Merle is out of earshot.

Daryl shrugs. “I dunno. Don’t think he’s that much of an idiot, but he _is_ Merle. Whatever it is, we’re gonna be safe from it. Right?”

Rick leans in and plants a little kiss on the corner of Daryl’s mouth. “Right.”

#

They eat and drink anyway, mainly because they are weak-willed and Rick gets hungry when he sees the cookies Maggie and Glenn bring, in the shape of orange frosted pumpkins with cotton-candy cobwebs draped over them. Daryl catches him with two in his mouth and two more in his hand.

“Gettin’ crumbs in your _cleavage_ ,” he says, utterly dripping with sarcasm.

Rick just smiles, cheeks full of cookie, and hands one to Daryl who sighs and takes a bite. Rick swallows, leans in, and reaches down into the padded cups of the dress, pulling out a handful of candy - fun sized Snickers and Mounds and several of the little green-wrapped, peanut-shaped ones. “I snuck you some of this, too,” he whispers, conspiratorially. "I already had some."

Daryl groans. “Rick, these were _your_ rules!”

Rick pouts. “I know, but we don’t even know what’s causin’ all this and we gotta eat, right? ‘Sides, you had the same rules last night and I still ended up the way I did.”

“After _you_ disobeyed,” Daryl points out. Rick gives him his best innocent look, bats his eyelashes and all, and Daryl huffs and gives in without much of a fight. He holds out his hand for the candy; those green-wrapped ones are pretty good, after all. He makes a mental note to find out who’s been bringing them. “I guess,” he says reluctantly, and Rick smiles, dumping the sweets into his palm. “Fuckin’ rulebreaker.”

“You can spank me later,” Rick promises with a wink. Daryl unwraps a couple of the green candies and shoves them in his mouth, then tucks the rest into his pocket just before Rick pulls him back toward the living room. He’s planning on making his wolf dance with him whether he likes it or not. 

In the middle of the room, Maggie (wearing Rick’s uniform with his empty, off-duty pistol in the holster) and Glenn (whose face appears to be rotting off with extremely convincing zombie makeup) are dancing with Tara. Although Glenn isn’t so much dancing as lunging now and then at Maggie and attempting to bite her shoulder while Maggie holds him off with one hand in the middle of his chest. Tara is clearly drunk already and holding a half-finished White Russian in the paw of her kangaroo costume. Merle is watching her with amusement, and Rick shouts at him as he and Daryl pass by.

“What did you put in that drink?!”

Merle shrugs. “Nothin’!” he yells back over the music with his rough laugh. “She just already had a few _pre-party_ drinks!”

Rick shakes his head and pulls Daryl close for a dance. But before he can even start moving against him, he bursts out laughing. Over Daryl’s shoulder, he can see Shane in the corner, the head of his gorilla suit back on, beating on his chest to the rhythm of the music. Rick points him out to Daryl who snorts out a laugh, and Rick collapses against Daryl’s shoulder with mirth. That’s when it hits him. 

Daryl suddenly stops smelling like cologne, smells a little more wild instead, and the same lightheaded feeling from the night before washes over Rick, and he holds his head, leaning on Daryl so he doesn’t fall over. Hands catch him, steady him, and Rick blinks at the person before him. Only it’s not really a person. It almost looks like Daryl, but not really. He’s all wolf now, and Rick staggers backward in surprise.

“Rick?” the wolf says, and the voice sounds anxious, worried, loud over the music. “Rick, are you okay?”

“What?” Rick squeaks, blinking and rubbing at his eyes, hoping it will make his vision clear, because he’s obviously imagining things… but it doesn’t. When he pulls his hands away, the wolf is still there looking at him with confusion. 

Then the wolf changes. It takes a minute, but there’s a sudden growl, a dark chuckle, the baring of teeth that look sharp and pointed. And in a sultry, coaxing tone, the wolf says, “C’mere, pretty little thing.”

Rick backs away slowly out into the hallway, toward the kitchen. “I don’t think I will,” he sniffs haughtily. “You don’t look very _nice_.” The wolf’s eyes take on a sense of faux hurt -- they can only be described as puppy eyes, and Rick giggles. “Oh, _that_ is precious though. Where’d you learn to do that?”

The wolf gives Rick a look. “Who said m’not nice?”

“My grandmother always says wolves are beasts with no morals.”

“Does she?” the wolf says sweetly. “Well, bring her around, sweet thing. I’d love to have you both for dinner.” 

“So you’re harmless, are you?” Rick asks, watching the wolf’s eyes as they trace across his chest and down his body. “Hey!” Rick crosses his arms over his chest. “My eyes are up here.”

The wolf smirks. “Harmless? Not quite.”

“I didn’t think so,” Rick says, stepping backward into the kitchen. “But you are adorable. How does that work out for you? Big bad wolf like you lookin’ like a little puppy.”

The wolf advances, two short quick steps, and Rick backs up against the kitchen island. He’s about to say something, but a voice interrupts him as a mermaid comes twirling through the kitchen, grabbing a White Russian off the counter on the way through as well as the red, lobster-shaped oven mitt off the oven door. 

“Sebastian!” Beth cries. “I’ve been looking for you!” She hiccups. “You look a little different but it’s okay.” Another hiccup and at the top of her lungs, she begins to sing. “ _Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete? Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl, the girl who has everything?_ ” Rick wants to tell her she should be in water and offer to let her use the bathtub, but he thinks it would be weird with the wolf staring him down. She spins out of the room, the oven mitt and her drink in hand. 

Rick returns his attention to the wolf, but before either of them can say anything, they’re interrupted again, this time by the cocking of a gun. 

“Get away from Red, you beast!” 

Deputy Maggie moves around from behind him, aiming the gun at him, and the wolf smiles, takes a step back, paws raised. Maggie places herself between them. “You don’t wanna shoot me,” he says. “Ain’t done nothing wrong. Just talkin’.”

“Well, maybe Red doesn’t wanna talk to you.” 

Rick shrugs. “Don’t worry, Deputy. This little puppy won’t be any trouble. He’s just told me he’s harmless.” Rick grins over Maggie’s shoulder at the wolf, who glares daggers back before looking at Maggie and nodding at the gun.

“That thing ain’t loaded. I’ve met a lotta hunters in my time, can tell just by the way you’re holdin’ it that the weight’s off.”

Maggie huffs and lowers the gun. “...Well, I wasn’t anticipating any _trouble_ tonight.” She steps forward and prods the wolf hard in the chest. “You just keep your filthy paws off my friends, wolf, or I’ll take you down with my bare hands.” The wolf snorts derisively and Maggie steps away, watching him the whole time, then grabs another drink off the counter. “You holler if you need me, Red.”

“It’ll be fine,” Rick says, standing up tall in his heels, and trying to look imposing. “My grandma was wrong about wolves after all. I’d be scared of him but this puppy’s barely got claws.” Maggie disappears down the hall and Rick looks back at the wolf and giggles, a challenge on his face. “Isn’t that right? _Who’s a good boy_?”

The wolf makes an impatient noise and closes the distance between them, backing Rick up into the island and making him squeak with surprise. “I’m not a _good boy_. I’ve been very, very bad lately.” He’s so close that Rick can feel the warmth of his breath across his face and goddamn it, it shouldn’t excite him like this, but it does. He should be scared, but the wolf is pretty goddamn cute, more so, as all puppies are, for trying to play the aggressive alpha. Rick squeezes his thighs together, the fishnets digging in.

“How’s that?” he breathes, and the wolf smiles, a grin as wily as anything Rick’s ever seen out in the deep, dark woods. And this wolf’s tame, but only just barely. “Been eating people? Baby bunnies?”

“No,” the wolf says. “But I’d eat _you_ right up, Little Red.” One paw pushes up the bottom of Rick’s dress, sliding up his thigh, claws digging in just a pinch.

“W-what big hands you have,” Rick stutters out, and the wolf’s grin grows wider as he leans in close, so close their mouths are almost touching. “And a goddamn big mouth, too.”

“All the better to touch you. _Taste _you.”__

__And Rick hates to admit it, but with the wolf’s roaming hands teasing his thighs apart, he’s hard as hell, and the wolf knows it. “How uneasy I feel,” Rick whispers._ _

__And the wolf chuckles. “Liar.”_ _

____

#

Rick isn’t sure how, but they end up in the downstairs bathroom at the end of the hallway outside the kitchen, with the hooded red cape on the floor, the back of Rick’s dress pushed up around his hips and the wolf inside him. He goes easy at first, but then he seems determined to prove he’s no puppy, because he’s practically outright mounting Rick now, claws digging into his hips, biting at his neck and shoulder as he leans over him.

Rick’s knuckles go white on the counter, and he moans, breath misting up the mirror. “What a big dick you have!” he shouts, and the wolf gives a particularly hard thrust at that, hitting exactly the right spot to make Rick howl like a wolf himself.

“Damn straight and don’t you forget it,” the wolf growls in his ear. One fishnet thigh-high is turning into a knee-high, and the wolf claws at the other one, tearing it but holding on to keep Rick tight against him. “Gonna drive me mad, Little Red. _What am I_?”

Rick huffs out a laugh, grinding his hips back against the wolf as he reaches around and tears open the front of Rick’s dress, splitting the faux-corset bodice almost down the middle. “Puppy,” he says, trying for defiant, but the wolf runs a hand down his chest, pinches a nipple and bites at his neck again. “Okay, wolf, _wolf_!” Rick cries, and he shoves one of his own hands up underneath his dress, curling his fingers around his cock and stroking fast. 

He doesn’t have to tell the wolf that he’s getting close, because the wolf seems to know, starts getting aggressive and thrusting harder, and it’s all over in a flash when he drags his teeth along the back of Rick’s neck and says, “Come for me, you pretty thing.” 

And Rick does, so hard he nearly blacks out. He’s pretty sure it’s all over the floor and the inside of the dress, but he doesn’t care, because the wolf gives two more shaky thrusts and empties himself inside Rick with an actual _howl_ , so loud that Rick’s surprised it doesn’t break the mirror. He bends over Rick, one arm around his waist, the other across his chest and stays there, breathing hard, that little growling noise still in the back of his throat. 

Neither of them say a word, not for a long moment until there’s a pounding on the locked bathroom door. Deputy Maggie screams several obscenities and then, “I told you to keep your filthy paws off Red, you _beast_!”

And the wolf, smirking at Rick in the mirror, opens his mouth to yell back, “Well, Little Red’s got a little _white_ now and _I_ ain’t hearin’ any complaining!”

**Author's Note:**

> So--- Chapter One? My first ever crackfic! Did I do it right?! (From TWDObsessive)
> 
> Stay tuned for more daily as the rest of us add our chapters!! Happy Halloween!


End file.
